


Undone

by MamaImpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Awkward Flirting, Comedian Gabriel, Dean Works in a Bookstore, Embarrassed Castiel, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Love Letters, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nervous Castiel, Professor Castiel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, good guy Gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaImpala/pseuds/MamaImpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel considers himself a decent communicator, but he finds himself embarrassingly clumsy and tongue-tied around a particularly handsome clerk at his local bookstore. Can he find the words to express his interest or will he continue making a god-awful fool of himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on Tumblr @mamaimpala! Please let me know what you think :)

Today is the day.

Sure, Castiel may have told himself that Monday through Friday every week for the past two months, but today is going to be different. He could feel it. 

He runs through the plan while sitting on the bench in the hallway, lacing up his oxfords. All he needs to do is start with a nice compliment or a witty comment about whatever Dean’s shelving, loan him the anthology they talked about last time, and just ASK, for god’s sake. Oh and not stare silently at his damn mouth again. He flushes slightly, remembering the purchase he fumbled last Tuesday because he got so distracted. Dean’s lips had curled into a pleased smirk as Castiel flustered about, stammering and dropping change everywhere. That man was going to be the death of him.

But today is going to be different. He nods to himself and sets his shoulders back as he grabs his laptop bag and steps out into the late fall chill. What is it that his brother Gabe always says when he attempts to be encouraging? “Look and act confident and you’ll start to feel confident.” It works most days. Castiel has only been teaching recitation classes for Dr. Shurley a few weeks now and he already exudes the gentle authority that students remember years later. They clearly find him engaging; some actually laugh at his terrible mythology puns. One or two in each class even come to his office hours to confide in him about academic and personal struggles. He’s surprisingly comfortable at the front of the lecture hall, thirty sets of eyes on him for hours. But that bookseller’s sparkling green eyes absolutely destroy him.

Castiel tries to distract himself, he really does. He goes over his grocery list; he plans questions for his evening class’s pop quiz. His stomach still ends up twisted in knots by the time he finishes the six block walk to the bookstore. Castiel reminds himself to breathe deeply and stand tall as he spots its cheerful blue awning. When he first moved to the neighborhood, Charlie’s Corner, was a sanctuary. He seriously couldn’t imagine surviving that first week without their free Wifi and tiny cafe. It’s a small store, but they carry an esoteric selection of books that appeal to his perpetual curiosity. Castiel likes that they shirk the self-help and toys sections that have overtaken most big chain bookstores, like lianas coating a rainforest canopy. No, this was a place for the appreciation of the written word, where knowledge and art were esteemed. That alone would have earned his loyalty, but it was Dean Winchester that brought him back every morning on his way to campus. 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

Castiel had heard him before he saw him that first day. A deep, melodious laugh rang out from the stockroom, so unselfconscious that just hearing it put Cas at ease. When the double doors swung open, however, he was stunned. He never thought it was actually possible for the sight of someone to literally take one’s breath away. But there he was…. breathless. Who could imagine a jaw so sharp paired with lips so full? Stubble softened the angles of the man’s face in ways that begged to be touched and the casual smile he gave a passing customer was absolutely radiant. Even from a distance, his eyes revealed an enthusiasm and intensity Castiel knew he had to explore. His gaze caught the glimpse of collarbone that peeked out from the man’s partially buttoned grey henley and trailed its way down. His build was firm, but not bulky. Broad shoulders tensed and forearm muscles rippled as he carried out a box of hardcovers. This was the kind of body that was borne from hard work and active pastimes, not hours at the gym. An honest body to match an honest laugh. 

Castiel visited the bookstore daily. He made excuses to interact with the man, heart between his teeth, until a warm familiarity blossomed. Once the semester started, a habit developed of stopping in for at least a half hour on the way to his first class. Incrementally, he discovered that Dean’s sparkling smile was unfairly bolstered by an innate charm, that he was working there to help put his younger brother through law school, and that he was passionate about classic cars and monster lore. Dean shared animated stories about his cross-country travels and defended Led Zeppelin’s Tolkien-inspired songs with an absurd level of passion. Cas couldn’t remember the last person he found so fascinating.

More than that, he was attentive, gentle, and uncommonly kind. Castiel loved watching him interact with the children that came into the store. With soft tones and playful smiles, he would help them pick out a new Dr. Seuss book like it was the most important task in the world. That was just the way Dean treated people... everyone had his full focus. His eyes didn’t even glaze over when Castiel described his dissertation. A conversation about the parallels between the Book of Enoch and modern apocalyptic theology isn’t for the faint of heart, but he listened with genuine interest. And when Cas’s finicky cat, Luci, scared him by running off for three days, Dean insisted on helping him put up flyers. The more Castiel learned about Dean, the closer he wanted to get to him. He was falling ...hard.

The problem was, that made him intensely nervous. A casual wink at the end of a joke once made Castiel’s hand shake so much he spilled coffee all over himself. His words came out either stammering or rambling; there was little in between. It wasn’t even because he believed Dean was entirely disinterested. As he had explained to his brother, there was a pretty reasonable chance the attraction was mutual. Cas wasn’t blind to the way Dean stole sideways glances when he thought he wasn’t looking or how his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip when they made eye contact. But interest and willingness were two very different things and he was afraid of destroying their fledgling friendship. Castiel wanted to find the courage to say something but, every time he tried to work himself up to it, he backpedaled or embarrassed himself with anxious clumsiness. 

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Cas grimaces when he sees Dean working the register with a sizeable line and the phone to his ear. Apparently someone called out this morning, because he is swamped. Castiel hates days like these. When the store’s understaffed, they barely get to trade glances. It may be silly, but their small exchanges are usually the highlight of his day. He weaves his way closer and waves nervously at Dean when he looks up to greet another customer. Dean’s polite smile blazes into a wide grin, sending tingling sensations up Cas’s spine. 

Castiel checks his wristwatch impatiently as he waits in line. He has a meeting in half an hour with the new art history professor all the way across campus. They’re planning a joint trip as an extra credit opportunity for their students and there are a lot of logistics to iron out. Cas knows most of them won’t take advantage of it, especially the ones that need it most, but it would be nice to have an excuse to visit the MFA in Boston again. Maybe he should ask Dean if he’d like to join, he wonders. He’s so preoccupied trying to decide, weighing romance against awkwardness, that the woman behind him has to poke him when it’s finally his turn. Startled, he stumbles and his elbow knocks into a display.

The thin wire rack teeters in slow motion. Castiel’s arms flail as he scrambles to catch it. He manages, but half the impulse buy items scatter all over the floor. He looks up in alarm at the shock in Dean’s face. Furiously blushing, Castiel rushes to sort out the pile of magnets, postcards, and bookmarks that jumbled all together. “I am so, so, so sorry!” He holds up a hand to signal that he doesn’t need help. “Um, don’t worry… I’ve… I’ve got this.” It’s bad enough that he’s a complete klutz; he doesn’t want to make Dean’s morning more stressful on top of it. 

Dean comes out from behind the counter anyway to squat down beside him. He puts a calming hand on Castiel’s arm and murmurs,“Hey Cas, man, it’s okay. It’s okay.” His eyes shine soft and sincere when he catches his gaze. Castiel frowns self-deprecatingly and looks down at his gentle grip. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna be here for another hour or two. I’m not taking my break until later,” Dean says with a hint of disappointment as he sorts postcards by design.

Cas gulps nervously at the thought that Dean may be have scheduled it that way to see him. “I have a meeting in a bit. I was just stopping in to drop off the Scandinavian folklore book I was telling you about and… and... um, see if… you, uh… I mean, that is… to SAY… hello.”

Dean flashes a brilliant grin. “Well, hello then. You sure know how to make an entrance.” He winks at the rosy flush creeping up all the way to Cas’s ears. After a few moments, Castiel realizes that they’ve just been staring at each other again. Clearing his throat, he rushes to fill the silence.

“Heh, yeah… So anyway, you obviously need to get back to work. I’ll just leave this with you and, um, I guess see you tomorrow maybe?” He nods to himself and practically shoves the book at Dean’s chest. “I think you’ll find the Nökken particularly interesting. Malicious spirits that drown people in bodies of water are relatively universal, but the Nordic interpretations are more complex, incorporating elements of shapeshifter lore as well. It’s right up your alley.” 

 

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitches into an indulgent smirk as Cas rambles. He helps Castiel up once they finished tidying the spill, steadying him so he doesn’t stumble again. A rush of affection stirs in his chest as he sees Cas’s blush deepen. Surprising himself with his casual tone, he replies “I’m sure it’ll be awesome, thanks. Sorry I’ve got to get back, but… tomorrow yeah?” He suspects that his eyes look absurdly hopeful at the suggestion.

“Ye… yeah. Tomorrow,” Castiel stammers and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. He turns towards the door, but pivots back at the last minute with an awkward wave before shoving himself through. Dean’s smile doesn’t fade for hours. 

 

Neither does Castiel’s frown. He’s distracted for the rest of the day, ruminating over the encounter. He had gotten so close, despite his mishap, but the words just refused to come out. There’s something about being face-to-face with Dean that just unravels all his plans. Fear clenches his jaw shut every time or sends him careening in some random direction trying to fill the silence. It doesn’t matter if he practices the conversation in the shower until the damn water runs cold, it always goes sideways on him.

Cas is uncharacteristically snappish when one of his students holds him up at the end of class. All he wants to do is trudge home, slump in front of the TV, and marathon something mindless. It’s not usually his distraction of choice but the day has been so goddamn annoying, he just needs to stop thinking. What he DOESN’T want to do is sit here listening to his student stammer about the midterm paper due at the end of the week. His frustration rises as they seem utterly incapable of stringing together a coherent sentence. He wonders how they manage to send perfectly articulate emails to him every week... and then it hits him. The answer to his vexing problem is elegantly simple.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel blurts and quickly packs his laptop away. “I forgot that I have an appointment! Just email me your concerns and I promise I will get back to you by the end of the evening.” He’s going to write Dean a LETTER and it is going to be just as clever and direct as he inevitably fails to be in person. And if it doesn’t work, well, perhaps it isn’t in his fortunes... but by god, he’s going to give it his best.

He’s already writing it in his head as he power-walks home.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

The door slams shut a little louder than is really necessary and something heavy thumps onto the hallway floor. “Ughhhhh, why is the laundromat so far away?” Gabe whines as he shuffles into the kitchen, flopping his arms about with exaggerated pathos. From the way he behaves, Castiel muses, you’d never guess that he’s the older of the two. Gabe prefers to be on the road, but when he doesn’t have any stand-up gigs booked, he generally graces Cas’s futon and eats all his cereal. In a way, it’s kind of nice… not that Castiel would ever admit that to his brother. Gabe was always his favorite sibling and things were lonely here in Cambridge when he wasn’t around. Between graduate classes and teaching, Castiel never really found the time to make friends in his new town. Gabe, at least, is a crass constant, an annoying anchor of affection.

Castiel smirks at his brother and continues reviewing the letter, worried that it might be a bit… contrived. He’s been working on it for an hour but something still feels frustratingly off. He obviously doesn’t want his interest to come across as careless, but it would be just as dangerous to be too intense. He absentmindedly taps his pen against the edge of the table and frowns. Finding that middle road was never really his strong suit. 

“Grading papers again tonight, man? Your workload is murder,” Gabe tosses over his shoulder as he rummages through the fridge. “There’s still time to quit and become a janitor, yaknow.” 

“Heh no, and no thank you.” Castiel shakes his head, “This is more of a personal project.”

“Ohhhh?” Gabe sidles up on the stool next to him, peeking over at the creased paper. Popping his gum in Cas's ear, he rests his chin on his little brother's shoulder and chuckles with awareness. It’s a LOVE letter and knowing Cas, it has to be ridiculously entertaining. "Soooooo... I'm guessing today was not the day then?"

Castiel exhales wistfully. "No," he grumbles, his gravelly voice conveying every ounce of frustration. "I made a complete ass of myself again. So I thought... I thought maybe it would be easier if I just wrote something. Remove some variables from the equation.” He winces and looks down at the peeling linoleum. “Actual face-to-face contact seems to be a particularly finicky one." 

Gabe tilts his head to the side in exaggerated consideration. "Hmm, not the worst idea, I suppose. You do make a point at least. Although I still think the shirtless whipped cream angle I suggested would be better. I'm telling you, 85% success rate." Castiel rolls his eyes at his brother's waggling brows and slumps forward onto the desk.

Gabe takes the opportunity to slip the letter out from under Cas's arm for a closer examination. His little brother's head shoots up in alarm as he exclaims, "Well let's see what's gonna win over Mr. Tall, Freckled, and Charming here." Castiel winces as Gabe clears his throat and pulls out his hoity-toity professor impression.

With a pinched face and a stridently nasal voice, Gabe recites loudly, "'Dear Dean Winchester..." Castiel sighs and covers his face with his hand, wishing for a quick death. He's always considered this impression the most grating part of his brother's comedy routine. Doubly so at the moment. Cas is still convinced Gabe specifically does it to mock him, despite Gabe’s every assurance to the contrary.

"'We have been in each other's acquaintance for quite some time now, but our interactions have been unfortunately brief.'--- What is this? Pride and Prejudice? Who says ‘in each other’s acquaintance’? You lose your neckerchief and stallion, little bro?" 

Castiel flushes crimson, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. "I... I... well it was only a first draft and..."

"'Although it may be unwise to confess, it does your beauty no justice to disguise my attraction to you any longer. My thoughts find themselves returning, time and time again, to your piercing eyes, but I dare not stop them, for I can imagine nothing more worthy of my attentions. Your smile fills me with a galvanizing warmth that leaves my entire being addled for hours. I must concede... I am undone in your presence, but unravelled without.’' --- holy shit, Hotpants." Gabriel goggles at the paper, "Damn, you got it so bad you pulled out ALL the flowery stops." Castiel's heart drops. It sounded elegant before, but from Gabe's mouth it just comes across as ...delusional.

"'I believe that you and I would be romantically compatible and would appreciate the opportunity to explore any potential interests further over a meal, if you are so inclined. With Hope and Sincerity, Castiel Novak.'" Gabe breaks into peals of laughter as he clutched the letter to his chest.

"Since when is being literate and polite worthy of mockery?" Castiel hisses in embarrassment.

"Cassie... Cassie... you can't..." Gabe is still laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

"Of course I CAN'T," Castiel snaps, "I can't manage to say or do anything right around him anymore, so I just WON'T." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and paces across the tiny kitchen. “I’m done making a fool of myself chasing someone so thoroughly out of my league that he makes me lose all my faculties.”

Gabe tries to compose himself, trailing off into scattered chuckles under Castiel's outraged glare. "No, no little bro... you should ask him!" Leaping from his chair, he poses with a fist clenched in the air and thunders, "Grab love by the gullet, sweep it off its feet, and... AND..."  
He shrugs anticlimactically. "I dunno, impress it with your meticulously organized sock drawer or something."

Castiel is clearly still mortified and NOT amused. "Look," Gabe tries to de-escalate, "It just didn't sound natural! It was like some twisted abomination produced by an illicit affair between a romance novel and a cover letter." He flaps his hands around in confusing pantomime to illustrate his point.

Castiel makes a failed grab for the letter and scowls. "You're judging me."

His brother's lips curl into a smirk. "It’s what I do." He blows a bubble and lets it pop loudly for emphasis. "It's a hobby of mine." Gabe hands the letter back and hop up onto the table, swinging his legs. “You know,” he muses, “it’s really not ALL bad. I like that ‘undone, unraveled’ part… it sounds kinda sexy in that way too literary way he’d probably dig.”

“You think so?” Castiel glances up hopefully.

“Yeah, look… I bet if we put our heads together, we can make this baby shine. You’re just too nervous. If this doesn’t work, I promise you can punch me.”

An hour of deliberation later, Castiel feels pretty satisfied with the result. He’s even ready to forgive his brother for chewing on his pencap and eating half a box of Fruit Loops in the process, claiming he needed “brain fuel”. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Castiel doesn’t see Dean immediately the next morning, but he lights up when he spots Dorothy at the customer service desk. “Hey, you’re back from the dig! Tell me all about Peru,” he exclaims with friendly grin. 

Dean watches the two of them chat from the cafe. Of course the adorable dork is wearing tweed, he chuckles to himself. His smile fades, however, while watching Castiel and Dorothy banter animatedly. Cas looks so relaxed, leaning on the counter and laughing openly… maybe he misread things. Maybe he makes the scruffy teacher’s assistant nervous because he’s making him UNCOMFORTABLE. Frowning, Dean’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice Charlie slipping in behind him at the counter.

“Don’t you go all cow-eyed on me, Winchester. He’s awkward with you because he likes you.”

Ears tinged with pink, Dean tries his best to look unaffected. “What are you talking about, Charlie?” he mutters. Of course she knew pretty much from the start. She’s been teasing him about waiting for “Professor Boyfriend” and drilling him for details on a daily basis.

“Ugh, you’re my favorite idiot. I can tell you with absolute certainty that you don’t have anything to worry about on EITHER end of that equation,” she says with a wink. Puzzle pieces slowly clicking together, he gapes at Charlie.

“Wait a sec... you and Dorothy?”

Charlie beams. “I’m not saying, I’m just saying,” she chimes as she refills the syrup pumps. “Hey, heads up.” Dean looks up to see Dorothy pointing Castiel in his direction. He’s running his fingers through his permanent sex hair, trying to flatten it down, before walking over with a crooked smile. Dean’s breath picks up.

“Don’t you dare say a damn thing,” Dean warns her gruffly as he smooths out his cafe apron and grins back.

“Me? I would never!” Charlie replies in mock outrage as she glides past him, back out onto the main floor. She flashes him a hidden thumbs up and mouths, “Good luck!”

“Hello Dean,” Castiel rumbles warmly as he approaches the counter. “I didn’t expect to find you back here.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents!” Dean jokingly brags while flipping a can of whipped cream in the air. “White chocolate mocha with extra whip, right?” He asks as he grabs a large to-go cup. “It’s on the house.”

Cas’s eyes widen in surprise and he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. He’s disproportionately excited that Dean bothered to remember his guilty pleasure. “You… you really don’t have to. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Dean chuckles fondly. “Trust me, I won’t. But if it would make you feel any better, then it can be on me. Come on... let me indulge that sweet tooth of yours,” he teases with a wink. He deliberately locks eyes with Castiel and slowly licks his lower lip. Right on cue, the professor loses all his composure. Stammering wordlessly, he simply stares after Dean as he goes about making the drink.

Castiel zones out, hesitantly fondling the creased letter in his pocket. If he’s going to do this, the time is now. He’ll find a way to rationalize scrapping the idea if he lets himself sit on it for too long. Steeling himself, he slips the folded paper out, chanting encouragements in his head. He’s startled out of his internal monologue by a loud clearing of the throat. Cas is surprised to see Dean nervously rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. If he didn’t know any better, Castiel would swear that he looked shy all of a sudden. 

“Um, I’m not the best at this and kinda rusty... so bear with me, okay?” Dean anxiously requests as he sets the steaming cup down on the counter and lifts his gaze. “Would you, uh, like to go out for dinner or something with me on Friday?”

Cas bursts out in relieved laughter. “Are you asking me out? Like on a date?” he asks, incredulous.

“I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s cool. I thought maybe…” Dean trails off and starts to turn away to hide his disappointment. 

Castiel reaches out quickly to grab his hand, beaming eagerly. “No, no, no… you just surprised me. I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“Really?” 

Cas is absolutely certain nothing in the world compares with the excited sparkle in Dean’s eyes. “More than you could ever imagine,” he replies ardently. 

“Great! So, when do you get out of your last lecture? I could swing by and pick you up from campus or home… I guess home would make more sense, right? That would give you time to change or whatever and…” Dean rambles animatedly until his eyes catch on the paper in Castiel’s hand. 

“...what’s that?”

“Nothing!” Castiel exclaims far too quickly. He is rewarded with a skeptical raised eyebrow. 

Dean drapes his arms across the counter, leaning forward with a smug smile. “‘Nothing’ means it’s for me, doesn’t it?” Silent denial only encourages him to grin wider.

“If you must know,” Cas huffs after a moment, “I was also entertaining the idea of asking you to dinner.” He primly deposits the letter in Dean’s open palm, with a challenging look.

Dean’s teasing attitude dissolves as he reads. By the last line, his ears are flushed crimson and his mouth is silently gaping. Castiel responds with a warm chuckle that flusters him so much he almost knocks the drink over with his elbow. 

Perhaps, Castiel realizes, he isn’t the only one that is completely undone.

 


End file.
